


This One Time, At Band Camp…

by dametokillfor



Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-08-12
Updated: 2009-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-18 06:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dametokillfor/pseuds/dametokillfor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Funny? They’ve stuck us in a f***in’ <b>tent</b> in the middle of a f***in’ <b>field</b> in the f***in’ <b>English weather</b>! This isn’t funny!”</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	This One Time, At Band Camp…

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the wristbands on A7X’s wrists at Sonisphere, which looked suspiciously like [weekend camping ones](http://i25.tinypic.com/316lug7.jpg). Thanks to [](http://jeanamarie.livejournal.com/profile)[**jeanamarie**](http://jeanamarie.livejournal.com/), I have discovered they’re [not](http://i26.tinypic.com/2yy9k5s.jpg). However, the idea was too amusing for me to pass up.

“I fuckin’ hate this country.” Brian announces, loudly as he flips onto his back again. His feet hit the thin cloth walls of the small tent surrounding them, causing it to shake.

“You want to yell that a bit louder, Gates?” Matt asks, not moving from the comfortable position he‘s finally managed to get himself in, “I don’t think they quite heard you back in Cali.”

“Oh fuck off, Matt.” Brian snaps, sitting up, pulling the blanket around his shoulders, “This is bullshit and you know it.”

Due to a slight problem - _a fuckin’ catastrophic error_ , Brian had insisted - with the hotel availability on site at the Sonisphere festival, the band had arrived on site that morning to discover they were without a room for the night. Ringing around the local area had turned up no free rooms, so the boys were left with only one option…

Matt rolls onto his back and peers up at his fuming friend, “Actually, I think it’s pretty funny.”

Brian looks down at Matt, “Funny? They’ve stuck us in a fuckin’ _tent_ in the middle of a fuckin’ _field_ in the fuckin’ _English weather_! This isn’t funny!”

“Your bitch fit is _hilarious_.” Matt says, revelling in the fact he’s the only one who can actually say such things to the guitarist and get away with it, “We’re at an outdoor festival, Gates, it’s not like we’re the only ones camping.”

Brian rolls his eyes and flops back on the air mattress, “We’re the only talent camping.”

“You’re considered talent now?” Matt asks, starting to get pissed off with the older man’s attitude.

Matt was enjoying the experience. Sure the airbeds weren’t exactly luxury, the weather was brutal for a Californian boy and the company was a pain in the ass. But the chance to slum it for a while was strangely appealing to him.

“Don’t fuckin’ start with me.” Brian warns.

“You’re being an ass.” Matt points out.

“I’m in a fuckin’ _tent_!”

“And?”

Brian sneers at him before angrily flipping onto his side, misjudging the strength of the small air mattress he’s laid on. A few minutes pass in complete silence. Matt watches the diva with a smile as Brian, not moving of his own volition, slowly sinks down on a deflating mattress.

As Brian’s body lands on the floor, Matt chuckles softly before rolling onto his other side.

He’s certain that any minute now, Brian’s going to start another crazy tirade of anger. Either that or he’s going to get out of the tent and sodomize the guy who fucked up their hotel booking with the tent pole. He doesn’t however expect the older man to start laughing.

He turns over, figuring he needs to make sure that Brian’s laughing at the humour of the situation and not due to an impending mental breakdown. The last thing he needs is to ignore his friends insanity and wake up dead. _Well, not wake up dead_ , Matt thinks, _but the point still stands_.

The anger seems to have broken. Syn’s gone, Brian’s here now.

“You good there?” Matt asks.

Brian looks across to him, with a half smile, “There’s a rock sticking in my ass.”

“Better than the stick you had there earlier.” Matt says, with a smirk.

Brian chuckles to himself, “Fucker.”

There’s a shared moment of laughter, tapering off into a comfortable silence before Brian speaks up once again, “So what the fuck am I supposed to do about sleeping now?”

Matt smiles at him, slides across the tiny mattress he sits on. He pats the side of the mattress.

“You have got to be kidding.” Brian says.

Matt shakes his head, patting the small air mattress again, “Come on honeybear.”

“Matt, there’s no way in hell we’ll both fit on that fuckin’ thing.”

“There is if we spoon.” Matt says, a look on his face that alerts Brian to the fact he’s goofing around.

Brian should give in, tell him to fuck off but that’d be too easy, that just wouldn’t be fun. Besides, it’s not like he’s never cuddled another man before. Things happen when you get five guys sleeping in the back of a van.

“Move over then, fatass.” Brian says, moving to climb next to him.

Matt does as instructed, perfectly willing to play this game. It doesn’t take long before Brian’s curled up behind him, the two of them barely fitting on the small air mattress. He wraps his arms tightly around the vocalist, slipping a strong leg between the other mans, resting his head on Matt’s shoulder.

“You comfortable there?” Matt asks, well aware this isn’t about to end anytime soon.

He feels Brian nod against him. The pair spend a few moments just listening to the sounds of one of their friends bands coming from the arena before Brian speaks up…

“We don’t cuddle anymore Matty.” He starts, in a tone Matt recognises as ‘lonely housewife’, “You just use me for aural pleasure then you toss me aside like I’m a whore!”

Matt closes his eyes, trying to ignore the insanity spouting from his friend now.

“You never buy me nice things anymore.” The guitarist mutters into his shoulder.

Matt turns his head to look at Brian as best he can, “You’re an idiot.”

Brian just laughs as Matt turns his head back.

They lay in a comfortable silence for a few long moments, both listening to the sounds of the campsite outside. There’s still music coming from the fields across from them, despite the last band having left the stage hours before, covered in cream.

Matt’s vaguely aware that their current situation should be more uncomfortable than it actually is.

Logistically, it’s an absolute pain in the ass. Neither man is small yet the makeshift bed is incredibly tiny. Matt barely fit on it when it was just him, with Brian’s strong body, it’s an absolute nightmare.

But in that strange, non-tangible sense, this is just so normal. Even Brian’s wayward fingers, moving slowly across Matt’s torso, aren’t unwelcome. The fact Matt’s curling into his touch, willingly being held by the other man, isn’t affecting either of them in the way it should be.

Matt almost thinks Brian has fallen asleep, is doing this in a unconscious state, when a small voice pipes up, “Shads?”

He doesn’t answer with so many words, a simple grunt of acknowledgement is enough.

“We’re fuckin’ cuddling.”

The words ignite something in Matt, something he didn’t even realize existed. He moves, as best he can, to face Brian on the ‘bed’ now. Matt doesn’t even let Brian get a question out before he’s crushing their mouths together in the ultimate act of spontaneity. Not ten minutes before, he was ready to throw the diva out of the tent, let him spend the night bitching at someone else. Now he’s got his tongue down the other man’s throat, kissing him as if his fuckin’ life depends on it.

Brian’s wondering when Matt went _completely fuckin’ crazy_ the entire time he’s kissing the other man back. His hands reach up from their original position, moving to thread into Matt’s curls. He’s rolled onto his back as Matt’s large hands pull at the scant amount of clothing he wears, Matt’s own soon following suit.

Matt’s gazing down at Brian now, surveying him with virgin eyes. The vocalist is certain he’s never seen anything so fuckin’ beautiful in his life. Very little can compare to the sight of his best friend, naked, pliant, almost begging for his touch.

He wants to make him beg, wants to hear that beautiful voice pleading with him for some release. His eyes fall shut as these images assault his mind.

“You always close your eyes when we make love.”

Matt’s eyes snap open again to see Brian smirking beneath him.

“Fuckin’ asshole.” Matt mutters, moving to silence his friend with a kiss.

The older man laughs into the kiss before Matt executes his own payback, rolling his hips into the guitarists. See him make some fuckin’ smart remarks now.

Brian’s mouth falls open in a low moan, something Matt decides is greatly more satisfying than most other sounds he makes. He repeats the action, a moan of his own spilling forth now.

He wants nothing more than to take the guitarist right now, right here on this damn air mattress in this damn tent. He wants to see the way he looks as he hits that spot Val found one night, he wants to see him completely fall to pieces under his touch, ~~he wants to know where all this is coming from~~. He’s holding back, simply grinding against him like a fuckin’ teenager. He’s not willing to hurt his friend, not willing to give into the depraved urges yet.

Brian’s hands are everywhere at once, nails raking down his back, gripping his thighs, pulling his hair, across his chest. Matt’s lost all sense of reality, completely taken over by this desperate need for the other man.

Brian’s voice is at it’s most beautiful as he hits his release, a sound Matt knows is going to haunt him for the rest of his fuckin’ days should this never happen again. His name has never sounded so fuckin’ erotic.

Matt falls upon his friend as he’s recovering from his own release, conscious mind kicking in slowly, the realization of what he’s just done dawning on him. He wants to panic, wants to overanalyse the situation, wants to fuckin’ hate himself and Brian for this.

But as ever, the brown eyed man makes it impossible.

“Matt?“

He’s almost afraid of what’s coming.

“I want a baby.”


End file.
